Happy Endings are Like That
by Cerulea
Summary: Snapshots of Cas and Dean's evolving relationship.  But as always with the Winchesters, happy endings are hard to come by.  And Dean is surprised to figure out what his ideal happy ending is, and who it's with.
1. Chapter 1

Ok, so, this is the first chapter of a new one. Kind of came at me out of nowhere, so I typed it out in kind of a frenzy.

As always, encouragement is appreciated. I hope you guys like it.

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><p>Happy Endings Are Like That.<p>

Castiel had been human for awhile.

God had granted him his wings back after Lucifer was defeated, and Castiel was grateful. Human life was difficult and fleeting. But during the war with Raphael, Castiel found himself once again de-Graced. One of Raphael's many ill-gotten weapons was employed by an ancient spell that allows you to bless a weapon of your choosing to be angel-proof. Castiel did not have any way of knowing about this spell, and so when his brother came at him with a weapon unlike the traditional silver angel-knife, he was not as concerned for his life as he should have been.

Raphael injured Castiel severely, robbing him of his Grace and nearly fatally wounding him. The blue-eyed angel crashed to the floor of the Winchesters' motel room in a bloody mess, his arms wrapped around himself, choking on his own blood. For his own dignity, he bit back any sound of pain threatening to escape his lips - the vein in his temple bulged at the effort. Dean and Sam appreciated the valor in that. Especially since they were not particularly confident in their ability to put him back together, and were afraid that this show of bravery may be his last.

But alas, Heaven's nerdiest angel surprised them again.

Cas was slowly nursed back to health by the weathered remains of Team Free Will and thus, destined to live out the rest of his life as a mortal.

Now he'd been human for awhile.

Hunting with the Winchesters and researching the Mother of All with Bobby felt like a good change, a reasonable way to spend his life and use his skills. It didn't make him happy, per se, but it made him feel busy and useful. Life was good, all things considered.

The Winchesters and Bobby Singer were like family to Cas, they were his best friends. Dean in particular started to feel once again like someone he would walk into Hell for. The two were like peas in a socially awkward pod, a strange pair, but obviously kindred spirits. Dean desperately needed someone like that in his life. Having Cas around again was a huge relief he would never admit to. And his attachment to the former-angel only strengthened every day. So when a year after the angel's fall back to humanity, Castiel came to Dean and said that Raphael had won the war in Heaven, and came to him in a dream asking for Castiel's allegiance in return for his Grace, Dean felt betrayed. He was too proud to admit that, in reality, he just didn't want Castiel to go. So he reamed him over the spinelessness of going back to Raphael just because the bastard had offered him wings.

"You're a friggin' coward, and that's the truth. Oh, poor Cas doesn't want to waste away down here with us mortal slobs. So he's gonna run away to the son of a bitch who stabbed him!"

"It's not that simple Dean. Heaven is my home, serving it is my calling, my purpose. I am a hundred times more useful to you as an Angel than I am as a man."

"That's not true!" Dean erupted, and Cas simply stared at him sympathetically. He could see this was more personal than Dean was letting on. Silently he willed Dean to tell the truth, to let it out. But Dean would never do that. "You know what," he started coldly, "this is typical, Cas. One step forward, ten steps back. You always go running home. You're always ready to be Heaven's bitch. I don't know why I'm surprised."

He turned to walk away but Castiel added quietly, "I'll miss you too."

Dean whirled back around, raging at Cas' audacity to say something so... true. He glared at the angel. Castiel stared at him with stripped-bare vulnerability in his eyes, willing Dean to say it, just say it - I'll miss you. Don't go... Cas locked his eyes on Dean, Tell me the truth. Ask me to stay. Please, just ask me to stay.

But Dean couldn't. He just couldn't. Maybe he was too proud, or too scared... he'd never entirely know why exactly in this moment, he couldn't man-up. The point it, he couldn't. And Cas saw it. So he told Dean, "I'm here, if you... need me. For anything. As always."

Dean could sense that some kind of moment had just passed him by, and it only made him angrier. He growled, "Sam and I were just fine before we met you and we'll be fine when you ditch us for the Great Gig in the Sky. We don't need you, Cas! I don't need you!"

He turned his back on the angel, his heart hardening with every step.

And there, left in the wake of Dean Winchester's emotional invulnerability, was a blue-eyed, black-haired man in a trench coat, who didn't know any better than to let him walk away.

* * *

><p>People always think they'll have time to set things right.<p>

Even the staunchest realists delude themselves into thinking they can put it off - whatever it may be. Usually an apology.

Dean had been in so many life-threatening situations that his instincts were ridiculous. He was brave to a fault, and much like his father, thought he could bottle everything until he died and didn't have to deal with it anymore anyway. What Dean didn't understand is that, while that may have helped him cut off his emotions so he could do "the job", it did nothing for his personal life. If there was one thing he should have learned from his father, it was that. Shoving everything down, denying your emotions - when did that ever do anything good for John? When did it ever help Dean? It didn't. He only thought it did.

But it was the only way Dean knew how to cope, and he'd learned it at a young age.

Now he was frustrated and wasn't sure why. He could hoot and holler about it being all Cas' fault because he was betraying them by thinking about going back to Heaven, but it didn't change that Dean knew, deep down, there was more to it.

So he did the only thing he could - he worked. Sam and Dean took a job in Louisiana that had started with an alarming number of missing persons, no bodies found, and ended with them arriving in the knick of time at an abandoned factory right in the middle of a demolition zone. The building, which they'd run into willy-nilly as always, was falling down around them, water seeping up from the floorboards and rising by the minute. But did Dean Winchester run? - of course not. A life lived in constant peril had given him a false sense of strength, an inclination toward heroics, and a warped idea of when exactly it was time to duck and run. He should have know it was time to get out, but he didn't pay attention. Somewhere in this building were innocent people that he could save - him and Sam, they were the only ones who could do it, because they were Hunters, and they'd solved the mystery of this monster's lair long before the cops would have any clues whatsoever.

So even when Dean's brain told him to go, his ego and his heart told him to climb those stairs and finds those civilians.

But those stairs were long since condemned. Dean fell straight through the rotted wood and fell two stories into over a foot of water that was rising fast. A sharp pain shot through his leg, and as his hands went instinctively to clutch it, they found instead a wooden beam that was pinning it down. Try as he might to lift it off, the beam wouldn't be moved, and Dean noticed with a panic he tried desperately to ignore that the water was coming faster and faster.

"Sam!" he called up at the ceiling. His brother's form leaned into the hole Dean had just fallen through. "Dean!" Sam screamed seeing the wet and bloodied state of his brother. "You ok?" he called down, over the sound of rushing water.

Dean clutched his leg, "Yeah," he grated out. "My leg's broken, and I'm pinned to the floor in a friggin' flood, but other than that..."

"Hold on," Sam called, ducking out of sight. Dean heard some calamitous banging and sloshing that was no doubt the sound of his brother trying to get to him.

The rushing water was only increasing the pain in his leg as it rose and rose, now all the way up to his chest. A loud crash and some splashing told him Sam had made it, and he looked over to see his mammoth albeit clumsy little brother breaking through some fallen pieces of wall and ceiling.

"What did you stop for pizza?" Dean snarked.

"Shut your face, damsel," Sam jibed breaking his way through the wood.

"You ok?" Dean asked, seeing that Sam was looking a little worse for wear as he attempted to slosh through three foot deep water to get across the room to him.

"Yeah. You?"

"Peachy. I'll be even better when we get me the Hell out of here."

Suddenly there was an ominous creak and the sharp sound of snapping timber - Dean looked up to see the floor above him giving way, a solid beam swinging down toward him, and him unable to move. He looked at Sam, Sam looked back at him - the beam was swinging as if in slow motion as Dean looked at his brother wishing he had time to tell Sammy he loved him, and to ask him to tell Castiel the truth for him.

He tried to duck -

**BLACK**.


	2. The Reprieve

**2011**

The swirling water and cracking wood was like a hazy dream. And even before he opened his eyes, Dean could feel the soreness of his body. Yet, Dean woke up feeling the warm sun on his skin and a comforting weight caging him to the bed. He reached out, touching the tips of his fingers to warm skin, soft and firm. The person behind him snuggled into his neck and made a quiet sound of contentment. Dean turned within the arms holding him and came face to face with none other than Castiel.

"Morning," he smiled sleepily at Dean.

Dean didn't remember getting here.

He remembered falling through a staircase, he remembered rushing water and shooting pain, he remembered getting clotheslined by an i-beam.

Dean remembered being pissed at Cas...

He certainly did _not_ remember going to bed with Cas.

...But something told him to ignore it. Just ignore that little fact. A cold pit in his stomach demanded Dean just let it be. And Dean was comfortable lying with him, and tired of fighting it, and finally didn't see any reason not to do just this. "Morning Cas," he smiled back shyly.

He should have been confused, he should have been on guard, he should have been freaking out...

_Let __it __go __Dean, _his mind demanded.

Years of living on the edge of death with no comfort, no peace of mind, no one to come home to. Waking up with Cas was feeling so right.

Cas leaned in and nuzzled his face to Dean's, rubbing their foreheads together and Dean closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feeling. It was strange...exactly what he had always wanted and never realized he'd needed so much. A simple, honest touch.

Dean tried to roll closer to Cas, closer to that warmth, but winced at the feeling of the fractured bone in his leg. "Careful," Castiel warned. "You're supposed to have a cast on."

"How'd I get out of there?"

"Perhaps it was your lucky day."

Dean groaned in obvious disagreement.

"You look groggy," Cas stated. He pressed his fingertips feather-light to Dean's bruised face, "You took quite a bang to the head." He leaned over and pressed his lips ever so slightly to the heated, purpling skin. Dean's heart jumped at the feel of his soft lips. It felt so new yet so natural, and his heart thumped against his ribcage like a girl on her first date. He felt a blush in his cheeks. Cas let out a soft laugh against his skin. "I'm kind of glad you did get your skull cracked," Cas smirked against his skin before moving back down to look Dean in the eye. "Had you been in your right mind, this may never have happened."

Dean didn't bother to tell Cas that "this_"_ was all a blur to him. He was just glad that something had finally brought them together.

Cas continued, "You gave us quite a scare, Dean. You gave _me_ quite a scare."

"I'm sorry," Dean said simply, meaning it. "For everything." He slid his well leg against Cas', "I guess it's pretty obvious now I was lying when I said I didn't care if you left again." It was strange how easily the words came out. Saying what he truly felt was an utter impossibility for Dean most of the time, and he pretended it wasn't so, but in truth he knew that about himself. Which is why he was so relieved, albeit confused, that this particular morning everything seemed to be so easy. It was like his every fear and emotional hang-up was just knocked out of him with that beam to the head - swept away, leaving him to wake-up into this dream world where he knew so specifically how important it was to tell Cas the truth.

Cas' smile at Dean's words nearly knocked the breath out of the man. A smile like that, was worth everything. Dean watched Cas with a kind of awed adoration- dark hair a mess, lips stretched into an honest to God smile, morning scruff on his cheeks. There was something inhuman about him even now, something more.

Cas ran his thumb over Dean's hand. "I'm happy to hear you say it."

Dean considered a moment whether he really wanted these words to come out, "I'm glad for you to finally hear it." What a weight off. And so much easier to admit than he'd thought.

Cas ran his hands softly up Dean's back, caressing the valley of his spine, and Dean let out a singular laugh, feeling lighter than he had... ever. "What _did_ happen last night?"

Cas smirked at him and rolled over on top of him.

It was so easy for Dean to give in.


	3. Moments from 2012

**2012**

Dean and Cas were lying on top of the Impala's hood, staring up at the sky. Sam was off with his new girlfriend, a girl he seemed to be completely over the moon about.

A regular, human, _girl_, thank god. Nothing demon or werewolf or non-homo-sapien about her.

Dean was jealous at first, and wary of any newcomer in their lives - convinced she was either evil or going to die on poor Sam. But now Dean was laying in the warm night air, thinking about how glad he was to see Sam happy like he deserved to be, as he and Castiel sat quietly under the stars looking like the picture of domesticated bliss themselves.

It was very easy now for them to be together quietly. There was a lot to think about in their line of work. A perpetual stream of, "did we do the right thing?"s and "what else could be out there?"s always crashing down on them with no definite answer available. So sometimes a man just needed to sit and think on it awhile, work it all out in his mind so he could do it all again tomorrow. Dean and Cas were no exception. In fact, they both enjoyed the peace they found together.

Nevertheless, Castiel squinted out at the night-blue desert as he started, "I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Uh-oh," Dean teased.

"What does it mean to give someone a ring?"

Dean shifted, leaning up on one elbow to look at Castiel. "What, like a wedding ring?"

Cas nodded.

"I guess it means you want to get married. Like, you want to be together until death do you part or whatever. You want to be family." Dean watched closely as Cas considered this, nodding as his brow furrowed. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to give you this," he very unceremoniously pulled a silver band out of his trenchcoat pocket and held it out to Dean.

Dean stared at Cas, unable to say anything, and slowly took the band, turning it over in his fingers.

"I don't know how I feel about the logistics of a marriage as an institution," Cas stated flatly, "as in, I don't find the ceremony necessary or appealing. But I feel that you are the one I will love forever, and you are my family. And I think for a man it is customary to seal such a bond with a ring, correct?"

Dean was still staring. "...Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"You're not listening," Castiel huffed.

"I am! I am! I just..." Dean slipped the silver band onto the ring finger on his left hand, a bit vexed by watching the act itself.

It fit perfectly.

"You're smiling," Castiel stated. "That mean's yes?"

"Technically you didn't ask."

Castiel rolled his eyes, "Dean, will you take my ring?"

Dean shrugged, but the smile on his face was obvious. "Yeah, sure."

"Good," Castiel smiled and leaned back against the windshield.

"Would you wear mine?" Dean asked quietly, hypothetically.

"I would." There was no hesitation, it was stated just as a fact.

Dean tried to hide his smile, "Good."

But Castiel could always feel Dean's smile, even when he wasn't looking at him.

Dean could feel that they were both happy and content ... a rare occurrence.

A few weeks later Dean was driving the impala with both hands on the wheel when he felt Sam notice his new piece of jewelry, and its location - left hand, ring finger. He noticed that almost immediately after seeing it, Sam shot around to look at Castiel sitting in the backseat, focusing on the man's hand and noticing Castiel had one to match.

Sam gave a classic, "Huh," sounding almost impressed.

Dean smiled, pretending he didn't notice.


	4. Moments from 2014

I've been wanting to write a story comprised of little snapshots of moments in Dean and Cas' relationship. They're little vignette's of fluff, I know... But there's a point to the fluff, I promise.

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><p><strong>2014<strong>

"You've only known her for, what-"

"_Two __years_ Dean!"

"Exactly! Two years Sam. Two years is nothing! Two years is like...a blip! I'm just saying, maybe take it easy with the whole marriage and picket fence thing."

"Dean, I love her-"

"Yeah, and when has that ever made anything work out!"

Sam took a deep breath, pulling himself together and looking at his brother hard. "Dean," he started in a calm, but warning tone, "I know that you're scared of me ducking out on you."

"_What_! That's not-"

"_Wait_." And the tone of demand Sam's voice made Dean shut up. "I know you tried this once, and it didn't work for you. And I know how much it hurt you when it didn't."

Dean winced at even the vaguest mention of Lisa and Ben, now blissfully ignorant of him and living their lives like normal people.

Sam let that wash over his brother before continuing, "I've spent enough time being tentative, and playing it safe. And I don't even think I've been doing it for me. Or her, really. I've been doing it for you."

Dean stared at his brother, at a complete loss for words. How could this too be his fault?

"Dean," Sam made his voice a little softer, pleading, "we're all but out of the job. We take a case, what? Once a month? And easy stuff. Light weight. That desperation to be the ones who save everyone... it's gone. I don't want to carry the world on my shoulders anymore. I want to settle down. And so do you."

Sam watched the wheels turn in Dean's head, knowing he was right, and knowing Dean knew it. Damn he'd have made a great lawyer. He had a perfectly-tuned sense of when he'd broken through. And he knew he'd gotten to Dean. He could all but see the resignation in his face. Sam had known for awhile that Dean was ready to get out of the life. And Sam had been patient for two years while Dean tried desperately to work through the possibility of he and Sammy moving on, and them growing apart.

Sam was well aware that Hunting was the only life Dean knew.

But Sam didn't want to wait anymore. And neither did his future wife. And he'd daresay, neither did Cas.

He wasn't at all surprised when Dean turned on his heel and walked out. Dean needed to work through this once and for all. He'd be back. Hopefully, after talking to Cas. But he'd be back.

* * *

><p>Dean felt a dip in the park bench's near-rotted wood as the weight of another body settled down next to him. He didn't need to look to know it was Cas, but he did, out of habit.<p>

Cas sat, hands clasped between his knees, looking sagely out at the fields before him, squinting through the sunlight. He was in his usual jeans and collared button-up. Cas never did like the informality of a T-shirt. He said it made him feel _lowly_, to which Dean always snarked a _Thanks_ or something of the like. Nevertheless, the former angel was still most comfortable in something akin to Jimmy Novak's Sunday best. And to his credit, he managed to keep those white shirts impeccably pressed and clean.

For the record, Dean liked the crispness of them. They brought out the blue of his eyes, made his dark hair seem even darker. Cas wearing starched white seemed... right. But Dean couldn't think about that right now.

"He's running away with her," Dean all but growled, like a spoiled little boy.

"It's been more than two years. They're hardly running away."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"He loves her very much," Cas stated.

And Dean's "I know" was a little too defensive.

Cas sighed and then was quiet for a moment. "You and your brother are as similar as you are different."

"Get to the point Confucius."

Cas gave Dean a warning look and the man backed down. "I'm sure Sam was nervous, jealous, maybe even afraid when you and I started courting."

"I have told you before and I'll tell you again - people do not say _courting_ in 2014. It's actually kind of creepy-"

"Regardless, whatever Sam's negative feelings were, he kept them to himself. For our sake. And he's been easing all of us into this ever since he met her. Perhaps you owe it to him to give him the same sacrifice."

Dean thought for a long moment. He knew Cas was right. He knew this chick was perfect for Sam, and try as he might he couldn't find one damnable thing about her. Even Bobby liked her - she beat him at Checkers on the first try and nearly drank him under the table, much to Sam's surprise.

But Dean's big fear - losing the family - was all he could see when Sam said he wanted out of the business and into suburbia. And Dean had let that panic him. But when Cas spoke, he seemed to clear that all away. He always could do that.

Dean knocked his leg against Cas', and the former anger looked at him. It was an almost playful gesture on Dean's part, but he wanted it to say _Thanks_ so he didn't have to do so out loud. Cas simply nodded, recognizing the behavior.

* * *

><p>The wedding that Sam had always wanted to a beautiful girl who entirely "got" him was a small event - just the brothers, Castiel, Bobby and the bride to be. Her family was mostly gone - a straggler just like the rest of them. One more way she was perfect.<p>

Dean was the Best Man, of course. Sam didn't have many other options really, but Dean was honored nonetheless. Bobby walked the bride down the aisle - even blushed when she kissed him on the cheek.

All the necessary things were said and promised and Sam held in his man-tears appropriately, even if Dean barely could. He coughed it away, knowing he had to man-up or Sam would never let him live it down. It wasn't so much seeing his little brother take the leap that made him want to cry like a little girl, but the way Sam's as-good-as wife looked at him, eyes shining, smile so big. She really did love him. Sam deserved that. Dean knew now it was right to let him go.

And he looked over at Cas, who was watching with such rapt fascination and sincere interest in every word, Dean had to put forth a real effort to tear his eyes away from him and look back at the altar.

There was the kiss and the rowdy procession out of the room. But Dean lagged behind. For a moment, he thought he might panic and he wasn't sure why - but it had nothing to do with the wedding. It was something else he couldn't quite put his finger on... There was something tugging at him, like there was something very important that he forgot and his brain chose this moment to say _hold up_...

A hand gripped his shoulder and he jumped.

"Cas! Sorry..." he laughed it off.

"Are you alright Dean?"

"Yeah. Yeah Cas. I'm good. Everything's good."

Cas shyly slipped his hand into Dean's, not meeting his eyes, almost as if he was trying to get away with public affection without Dean noticing. A warmth spread through Dean, calming him, leaving all of his worries and delusions behind. All he needed was here. It felt good to know that, to succumb to it.


	5. Moments from 2033

**2033**

Dean ran his fingers through the hair, now silver, at Cas' temples. Cas smiled at him and the deep-set lines at his eyes made Dean smirk.

"What?" Cas asked, intrigued by Dean's expression.

"Nothin'," he said, running his fingers down Cas' cheek, "I'm just happy."

Cas cocked his head at Dean. "You're a very mysterious man, Dean Winchester."

"I know, it makes me damn sexy, don't you think?"

"That I do." Cas kissed his lips with the comfort of familiarity, slipping his tongue into Dean's mouth.

Dean smiled around Cas' lips. "Careful, hon," he teased, knowing Cas detested the term of endearment. He smiled at the sour look he got for it. "We got places to be."

Cas groaned, but took a step back. "You realize that this function requires a tie."

"Shut up," Dean playfully shoved Cas' shoulder.

"Your niece will appreciate it."

"You know, I've never actually been to a graduation. Missed Sam's. Clearly never made it to mine. So I guess that's something we have in common."

Cas nodded, "It will be interesting to take part in such a function."

"I don't know about _interesting_," Dean muttered to himself, fumbling with the tie.

"Nevertheless," Cas started, turning Dean around to face him and beginning to fix the tie Dean had all but knotted up. Dean could see that Cas half-suspected he'd messed it up on purpose so Cas would help. After all, years of dressing up like a federal agent should have prepared him adequately for the task. Cas focused on the tie as he spoke, "Sam will be expecting you on your best behavior for his daughter's ceremony."

"Why does everyone assume _I__'__m_ the one who's gonna make a scene?" Dean pouted, thinking himself very socially acceptable indeed nowadays.

Castiel straightened Dean's tie, then tightened up his own. He examined Dean carefully, a smile on his lips. "There's still some Hunter in there. That's why."

"You bet your ass there is." Dean reached forward and loosened Cas' tie, then brought his hand to Cas' tidied hair and scruffed it up. "There's still some Angel in there."

Cas futilely combed his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten the dark mop, now generously peppered with gray.

The ceremony was what Dean had expected. Mostly boring. He'd barely survived the monotony of high school once, sitting through the graduation of a four hundred student class felt slow and tedious. But when Maria Winchester's name was called he and Sam got up and whooped like teenagers at a rock show - Sam's wife smiled at their antics, but pulled her husband down by the coattails. Passing by the Principal on the podium, newly graduated, Maria turned her shining brown eyes up to the stands and threw her Uncle Dean the devil horns, sticking out her tongue. Her mother shook her head, only pretending to be disapproving. Dean and Maria were strikingly similar, and Sam's wife was glad her brother in law was such a good role model in her daughter's life. He brought a necessary zest for life where Cas and Sam were mostly sensible, practical - Castiel bordering on blunt. Between the two of them, Maria had learned a lot about life from her uncles.

When Dean sat down he was practically glowing with pride. Dean noticed Cas couldn't help but smile quietly to himself.

Dean clapped a hand on his brother's back. The normalcy of the whole thing was blissful.

In the car on the way home, Dean was still smiling. Cas was driving, as he'd learned to almost two decades ago now, and he liked the feel of it. Dean knew Cas always liked displacing him and forcing him to ride shotgun. It was like a lifelong game of Tag between them. Fighting over who got to drive was a game that between Dean and Sam, Dean had always won. But Castiel truly enjoyed the challenge. It was a youthful, utterly unnecessary, and thus entirely human thing - two grown men racing to the car, smacking into the door at the same time, seeing who can get to the handle first.

Cas glanced over at Dean every so often. Dean was so content. "You're very happy."

"Yeah," Dean said nodding. "I was just thinking, it was all worth it, you know? All the crap we went through. It was all worth it. For _now._ 'Now' is awesome."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

"I'm glad you fondled me in the night without my knowledge twenty years ago," Dean teased, remembering that first morning he'd woken up naked next to Castiel, not entirely able to recall how he'd gotten there.

"As am I."

Dean remembered the warmth of Cas' body against his own that first time. He tried to remember how he got there... Usually he avoided tugging at that memory too hard, something cold and foreboding would stir in his stomach whenever he did and he'd tried to let go of his former perpetual expectation that the other shoe was bound to drop. He was a happy, simple guy now. And in the last twenty years, he'd grown comfortable, and he found himself less afraid to question. So he tried to remember... He'd been in the accident - the water, the crumbling building - and then...

Nothing. He remembered nothing. But not like he'd forgotten, more than that...it was like, something was blatantly omitted... He tried to work through it - he didn't remember seeing Cas that night, he didn't even remember getting home.

Just Cas the next morning. His brows furrowed as he struggled to remember.

Suddenly the car radio went fuzzy, nothing but very loud, unsettling static. He tapped it, but the static remained. Dean looked over at Cas, and saw that his posture was different, though familiar... he looked like the tense freshly-former angel of twenty years ago.

"Cas?" he asked quietly, feeling utterly confused.

"Let it go, Dean." Cas' voice was dark and deep. Impersonal and threatening, like it was once a long time ago.

Dean had just enough time to register the chill in his spine, when suddenly the radio snapped back on, stealing a breath right from his chest. He looked back at Cas once more, but he seemed relaxed and human again.

Cas glanced back at him, a gentle smile at first but then his brows furrowed as he examined Dean, squinting at him. "What's wrong?"

Dean couldn't answer. Something had just happened... right? Something weird.

"Dean?" Cas questioned, looking nervous, "are you alright? You look... afraid."

Dean wanted to tell him that something was wrong, that he felt... _wrong_... for a second there. But he couldn't put it into words, and he wanted to forget it.

"I'm fine Cas. It's fine."

Cas' eyes went back to the road but he took Dean's hand in his, and held it for a moment before bringing it up to his lips, running the alternating smooth and calloused skin against them. It was a habit he'd adopted years ago, the wonder of simple human sensation never really dulling for him.

Over the years it got to be like a nervous habit, brushing Dean's knuckles against his lips.

Dean took a deep breath as he gave in to the feeling. The foreboding and confusion receding until he'd all but forgotten it.


	6. Moments from 2053

**2053**

Dean noted his brother's very calm demeanor. He was frowning into his computer screen, squinting through bifocals, his knotty hands shaky on the keyboard. Dean drank in the sight of Sammy, an old man, his gray hair short and thin. He was so thankful to be lucky enough to see the sight. He never thought, when he was younger, that either of them would see forty, let alone many years after that.

Dean noticed that Sam's long limbs seemed even longer now that he was not the solid man of his twenties, but a thinner creature. Smart-looking and more graceful now that he bothered to move slower. Sam frowned into the laptop and Dean couldn't help but recall those times, it must have been a million years ago, that his brother would be up all hours of the night doing research for a hunt.

Sam looked up from his computer, seeing his brother grinning at him. Dean still had the most captivatingly menacing smile. "What?" Sam asked in a wary tone.

Dean shook his head. "Oh... Nothing."

Sam shrugged off his brother's vagueness and concentrated on the computer again. "Ok, I found something here," Sam started, "it says that there are these new medical trials that've been having an increasingly high percentage of success. We could easily get Cas into one of them. If there's even a small shot it could help him, he should do it. Apparently the risks are small..."

Dean soaked up the earnest naivety in his brother's voice. He sighed and responded evenly, "I know."

Sam looked at his brother with confusion. He waited for an explanation.

"I know the treatments Sammy. He won't do it. You know that. He's kind of a naturalist that way. Thinks when it's his time, he should just let go."

"But he could get months out of-"

"I know. He knows."

"He's giving up?"

Dean shook his head, certain on the matter. "No. Just doesn't feel he should argue with his Father."

Sam nodded, and Dean could see he was understanding as best he could.

In a way Dean and Cas understood each other perfectly well where Fathers were concerned - at least, the desire to please them, to do what they would think is best. In the very least, it was something Dean could respect.

Dean was slouching in his chair, oddly quiet, until he could practically feel his brother's eyes boring into him. "You ok?" Sam asked quietly, in that way he does.

Dean smiled at him, "I will be." Sam's brow furrowed again. Dean explained, "I don't want him to go. I don't even know if I know how to live without Cas anymore. But... I don't want him to hurt."

Sam understood. And Dean noted, that even as an old man those puppy eyes were ridiculously sympathetic. "Besides," Dean started more lightly, "we both know the cost of getting between Cas and something he believes in. If he believes his Father is 'calling him home' or whatever he says, I'm not going to shut him down."

Sam smiled, "That's probably smart."

They wouldn't talk about it again.

When Dean got home he found Cas out on the back porch, staring out into the yard like he used to stare back when he saw everything, back when his vision much like the rest of his body, was powered by Heaven. But those days had passed a long time ago. Now he was a regular, ordinary old man - if not one with stunningly blue eyes and now-wiry dark hair.

Dean sat beside him silently.

They spent much of their time in those last weeks in a companionable silence. Everything that needed to be said, had been. It felt good to know that.

* * *

><p>Dean fought with himself for a long time on what was better for Cas - to burn or to bury. The Hunter within said it was always better to burn. For everyone's sake. But the lover said he couldn't bear it. So he buried Castiel beside Bobby, in South Dakota, by the old house. They had spent many of the early years of their relationship there, and it was as much of a home to Castiel as anything on Earth could be. Now, it was a place Dean hadn't been in a long time. A place full of echoes and memories - some good, some downright gut-wrenching. But Dean couldn't deny there would always be a fondness for the house, if not just for it being a staple in the origin of his and Cas' love story, than also for its direct connection to his and Sam's second father. Bobby had left them the house when he passed, but Dean being who he was, found it too hard to be around it without the crotchety bastard. It seemed only right, now that he had to lay Castiel to rest, that he should come home.<p>

Sam cried as they stared at the headstones - good friends, gone to rest.

Dean couldn't muster tears. They didn't seem a big enough expression.

He and Cas had said their goodbyes. They'd faced this thing head-on and they were ready. And when Cas _went __home_ as the angel preferred to call it, it was quiet and graceful and he let Dean know that he wasn't afraid.

And something in Dean didn't let him fret quite like he should have - like he would have when he was younger. Something, in the back of his mind, just wouldn't let him panic. This...insinuation, it had him feeling like somehow, it wasn't over. He and Cas, they'd never be over.

That night Dean went to sleep in an empty bed for the first time in four decades. But before he did, he did something else he also hadn't done in decades - he prayed. Once Castiel had been his, he hadn't needed to call out to heaven. But much like riding a bicycle, he found he didn't forget how it was done. He prayed to Castiel, that he hoped he was happy, hoped he was safe and comfortable back home. He said he hoped he got his wings back, if that's what he wanted. He jibed at the silent Angel that he hoped he missed him desperately and that he was pleased with himself for leaving Dean _a "__crazy __old __spinster __guy". _Dean let out a quiet laugh. And he prayed he would see him soon.

He laid back on the bed, keeping to his side of the mattress out of habit, and smelling Castiel on the pillows.

* * *

><p><strong>Don't worry... story's not quite done yet...<strong>


	7. So Ends The Reprieve

**So Ends the Reprieve...**

Dean awoke to the curious sound of insistent beeping. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. That familiar cold weight had settled in the pit of his stomach, making him feel ill at ease. The beeping was high pitched and electronic sounding. It was a painfully familiar sound, reminiscent of bad times, a hospital-sound. He dragged his eyes open, squinting at the light.

In a white room, on a single-size bed with white sheets, thirty-one year old Dean Winchester was laying half-asleep in his jeans, boots, dark blue tee and olive green flannel button-up. The room was bright with sunlight coming in the windows, and was utterly plain, painted in nothing but shades of white.

Dean rolled over, blinking his eyes to force them to focus and there, sitting on the edge of his bed, was Castiel, looking as young as the day they met.

The Angel smiled at him.

Dean bolted upright immediately, looking Cas over, barely believing what he was seeing.

"Cas?" he asked breathless.

"Dean," he greeted calmly.

Dean immediately pulled him in for a hug.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you, man," he laughed, teary-eyed into his shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you, I was so..." but Dean couldn't continue. There was that pesky beeping again... "Do you hear that?" Dean looked around the room, not really absorbing that its blankness didn't entirely make sense. No doors. No pictures. No clock. No nothing - just white. The beeping was constant in the background, and he squinted, listening more carefully. "What is that?"

Castiel didn't respond, he simply continued staring at Dean fondly.

"Don't you hear that?" Dean demanded.

The cold foreboding he used to get years ago shot through his body at once. He could feel it seeping from his stomach and chest up into his brain and out to his very fingertips.

Something wasn't right. Something in the way Cas was looking at him... It was beautiful sure, but also somehow unsettling.

It wasn't altogether... honest. It didn't feel real.

Suddenly the room shook around him, flickering like a ghost or apparition does when it is poised to disappear. Dean jumped up off the bed, his Hunter instincts kicking back into gear. He could almost swear that in that flicker he'd seen something, something all around them, something on the bed. He knows he saw it, he's sure, but it's almost as if he can't remember what it was - like a dream that fades instantly upon waking.

He stared around warily, "What was that?" he asked Cas. But Castiel only reached up and traced his fingers over Dean's face and lips.

"I love you, Dean."

Dean's brow furrowed at him, "Yeah... I love you too, Cas."

The light in the room flickered, and Dean's eyes shot around, killer instincts ready for a fight. But when he looked back to Cas and saw him still only smiling fondly, seemingly unaware of anything around them, Dean's heart began to sink. He looked once more around this impossibly white and clean room.

Now he saw it -

there was no door. Just windows on every wall, white plastic blinds slatted open to let in the impossibly pure white light.

Dean turned his eyes up to Cas' big blue ones, "You're young," he realized sadly. He was piecing it together slowly. "You're not real are you?" Cas looked apologetic, like he felt bad for Dean. He didn't answer, but Dean knew. _Is __this __a __dream?_ If so, it was both glorious, and cruel.

Suddenly, there was a familiar voice, a female voice, "I'm sorry, Dean. I tried to give you as much time as I could. To be with him."

He knew her voice. Dean turned and looked at her. Beautiful. She always was - pale, pretty, with dark hair and strangely empathetic eyes. Dean swallowed hard, "Tessa."

Tessa smiled kindly at Dean, "Hey."

Cas flickered, and disappeared, and Dean's eyes shot around the room in vein. "This isn't real... This is some kind of... hallucination?" he asked, realizing the truth.

She gazed on him sympathetically. "I'm afraid so. In the real world, it's been three days."

"It seems so... real." He glanced around at the room he now understood to be fantasy. "So..." he looked at Tessa for confirmation, "I'm dead. ...Again."

She nodded.

"I can't even remember when my real life ended and the illusion started..." Heis face screwed up with the effort of remembering, "After I buried Cas, I went to sleep. That's the last thing I remember. I guess that was it."

Tessa stared at him in sad disapproval of his estimation, and Dean couldn't miss that expression of pity.

"What? Since when are you sentimental about some guy kicking the bucket?" he tried to joke. But her expression remained. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I let this go too long. I should have taken you sooner."

"What?"

"You're confused."

"Can't blame a guy for being disoriented. This aint exactly the average Tuesday night." He tried again to joke, but Tessa continued to stare at him, now extremely concerned.

"Dean, you've been gone far longer than you think."

Dean's smile fell. He couldn't remember dying? How is that possible? He'd had plenty of death-related experience to draw from, and one thing he knew was that he sure as Hell remembered it every time. He wagered another guess, "Was it last year, the heart attack?"

Tessa shook her head. "You know it wasn't."

"No, it had to be after Cas died... I went to sleep, then I was here. That was it right?"

She looked at him, genuinely sad to break the illusion. "No. You know it wasn't Dean."

Dean fought against the realization trying to claw its way through. All that cold terror in the back of his mind, in the pit of his stomach, for the last forty years coming to the surface in one instance of momentous panic and confusion.

"Go back further," Tessa urged.

Dean shook his head, unwilling to believe that any part of the life he and Cas had lived was facsimile. "No."

"You're thirty one years old. You were in an accident, and you were gravely injured..." she tried to make him remember - he shook his head against it, his fists balling up tightly, arms pinned down at his sides. She stepped closer to him, her voice gentle, "There was a flood, and the house just couldn't take it-"

"No," he rejected it, shaking his head violently. It was too much, too much to handle. Thirty one had been years ago - so much had happened since then, _important_ things...

"You slipped into a coma," she continued, gently but honestly, "and you never woke up."

Dean was loosing it, and Tessa could feel it - Dean can see it in his memory, _feel_ it... when he'd woken up that first morning he'd _felt_ the warm sheets, Cas' arm around him, the way he nuzzled into his face. He remembered the _feel_, the _smell_ of Cas, the trembling of his fingers the first night they'd really been together. _It __had __to __be __real._

But... It wasn't. He just... never woke up.

Dean collapsed onto the floor, knees buckling under him almost without his knowledge, hitting the cold white tile of a vacant hospital room. He saw his reflection in the metal panel on the door's base - he was young, he was thirty one.

Tessa crouched down beside him, a soothing hand on his back.

"It didn't happen? None of it? I never told him... We never..."

If Tessa'd had a heart to break it would've. She rarely knew the people she came to reap, almost never had a rapport with the person whose most intimate dreams and fears she would inevitably interrupt in that flash of hallucination as their lives gave out.

This was new for her, and that in and of itself was a rarity.

"It never happened. My whole life - my family's lives - none of it was real..." Dean fought against it one last time, trying to wrap his mind around the impossibility of the thing. His brow creased heavily, "No... It's not possible. It's been _years_. _Decades_-"

"For _you_," Tessa offered. "The mind does strange things in its last moments. In your mind you can live a whole lifetime in a minute. You can create yourself a whole world, if you give in to it."

Dean's heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice covered in poison, crushing his chest while making all of the rest of his body slow and sick. He felt full of lead. He should have known - a happy ending was never in the cards for him. Not even a bittersweet one. His life of love and friendship - a lie. His brother, safe and loved - a lie. Maria - never even born.

How could so much be ripped away from him, in addition to his life? In addition to the chance to make it all right now that he finally understood... _Unfair_, he thought. _So __unfair_.

"Death is always fair," Tessa answered his thoughts. "It comes to everyone, equally. It doesn't judge, it doesn't have favorites. It just is."

"You can save the speech," Dean bit. He just couldn't listen anymore. He took a deep breath. He closed off his heart, shut down his emotions as best he could letting it turn to anger and indignation and trying to pull himself from the floor to save a final shred of dignity. He gave Tessa a brave face. "Why would I do this to myself?"

"I don't know. Some of it is chemistry - sparks in a dying brain. Some of it is soul, wanting to help you feel comforted, complete. Maybe some of it is God. I couldn't say."

Dean shook his head, trying to keep his voice from warbling, "But now... all I can think about is..." He didn't dare say _Castiel _out loud, but she heard it nonetheless. And Dean knew she did. "I can't stop thinking about how I... loved him. What I never said."

He looked into her eyes and she saw what he wanted.

"Don't ask, Dean. We've been here before, you and I. You know there's nothing I can do but take you home. There is no second chance goodbye here. Everything gets left where it lies."

"If I could just tell him-"

"Dean," she laid her hand comfortingly on his cheek, "No."

He'd known that would be her answer. If nothing else, Tessa was a professional. You could always count on her to do her job. In his desperation to find some way to get back to Cas, if even for a moment his eyes darted around the room, as if looking for him in every corner, just in case. He cocked his head, squinting at Tessa, "Why can't I see him? Why can't I see the real world, like before, like the first time you and I met?" She looked as though she didn't want to answer. Dean continued, "I just want to look at him. And I want to see Sammy. But this... what the Hell _is_ this place?"

Tessa sighed, knowing he wouldn't give it up. "Death is different for everyone. And you're one of the few people to find out, it tends to be different every time." Dean thought about that a moment, and she watched his wheels turn, "_You_ made this. To protect yourself."

"From what?"

"The truth."

Dean didn't bother to fight that logic - he knew she was right. "Tessa, please," he barely got the words out and held the tears in simultaneously, it felt a nearly impossible task. "Show me him, one last time. Let me see Cas, and Sammy and Bobby, one last time and I promise I'll go with you."

Tessa cocked her head in pity, "Dean, you'll go with me either way." And it was true. "You have no hand here and you know it."

"Fine, I have no leverage. Just do it anyway, _please_."

Tessa took a deep breath. She examined this freckled, obviously fallible man before her, and after a moment of consideration she closed her eyes, shaking her head.

How Dean Winchester, of all people, managed to always get his way with Death and the like, she would never understand.


	8. It's a Sorry Excuse for a Goodbye

**It's a Sorry Excuse for a Goodbye.**

Dean watched Tessa close her eyes, and prepared for the worst. He thought she'd being taking him on... to wherever he was supposed to go next.

But that's not what happened.

The whiteness of that nonexistent room he'd created in his mind faded away, and Dean stood in the real-time hospital room his brain had based it on. He stood, staring blankly at an all too familiar figure on the gurney. Suddenly he remembered the flash of something he'd seen when he first woke up, that nagging image he'd seen in a flash and forgotten in a split second - it was this. It was the real world, trying to break through.

The something on the bed that he'd seen but not comprehended was himself, laying on a white sheet tucked over a slightly inclined gurney, a riot of tubes coming and going out of his body like desperate chaos, and the steadily beeping machine that told him he was alive, but couldn't deny he was close to dead.

Dean watched his little brother try not to cry at his bedside. The look of his own broken body lying there, so obviously empty of him, was haunting. Sam brought a hand up to cover his face as he tried but failed to keep the tears in. "We've always gotten through this before. You've always pulled through..." Sam tried to protest. "Dean, I don't think..." he faltered, and it was heartbreaking. "I don't know what to do, man. I'm sorry..." He laid a hand on his brother's body, resting it on his chest, and Dean brought his hand to his own ghostly chest, as if hoping to feel Sam's touch transferred there.

Suddenly there was a crushing guilt - he was leaving his little brother to fend for himself in the big, cruel world after all. For Sam, even more than for himself, Dean suddenly wanted more desperately than ever to stay.

Tessa felt it.

Suddenly they were somewhere else. Dean glanced around, confused - it was a claustrophobically small space, mostly inhabited by shelves. But it didn't take him long to realize why they were there. Somewhere in the Hospital, in a dingy broom closet full of paper towel rolls and bottles of cleaner, Bobby Singer was sobbing into his shirtsleeve, desperately trying to keep silent, his face red and pained and wet from tears. He was getting it all out before he went back to be strong for Sam.

Dean had never seen Bobby cry - he doubted if anyone ever had. It ripped a hole in his soul to see the man so heartbroken. He regretted asking Tessa to show him this. In a selfish kind of way it was almost nice to see that he'd meant to much to the man, but really, Dean had never doubted it. And now he'd seen how his utter stupidity and useless heroics had hurt Bobby more deeply than Dean could ever forgive himself for, and he knew the sight would haunt him forever.

He turned to Tessa, not meeting her eyes. But it was enough of an indication for her to put her hand on his shoulder and take him away from this room.

Up on the roof of the Hospital, Castiel was staring out at the crack-of-dawn-lit city. His face was blank, his eyes leaking silent tears down his face.

Dean tried to keep his voice even, "What'll happen to him?"

Tessa considered the question for a moment. Dean knew what she offered was as much as an educated guess, a prediction based on seemingly unlimited information, and Dean took it for what it was worth. "When his fellow Angels come calling again, Castiel will return to Heaven. No longer having a reason to stay on Earth." Dean winced at the ache of knowing he could have been that reason. "He will return to his former duties, leaving the world of man and its grief mostly behind him. He will check in on Sam every now and again. Other than that, he will become very much the way he was before he met you."

Dean didn't know if there was anything sadder. He stepped forward, coming up right beside Castiel and wanted so much to touch him.

_He__'__ll __be __alone_, Dean thought sadly.

"He'll have his brothers," Tessa tried to comfort.

Dean reached up to Castiel's cheek, wanting to brush his fingertips against it. But he couldn't. He walked up as close to Castiel as he could, he leaned in, a breath away, and he whispered, "I love you, Cas. I'm so sorry I never said it."

Cas' eyes closed, and Dean told himself that somehow, Cas had heard.

Dean closed his eyes too, staying close, pretending he could touch him. And in that moment, the closeness was almost enough to imagine he'd held him.

He never wanted to leave Cas' side, but Dean was not one to drag things out. He breathed deep and pulled himself together before he turned back to Tessa. "Alright," he started in a brave voice. He smirked at her in that all too _Dean Winchester_ kind of way, "Let's do this."

She extended her hand to him, smirking fondly despite herself, and after a moment he took it.


	9. Castiel's Epilogue

**Stop All the Clocks.**

**Castiel's Epilogue.**

Castiel stood on the roof of the hospital as the sun broke across the horizon, spilling pinkish yellow light onto the sparkling grass, glowing through the green of the leaves. The windows of the semi-metropolitan area shining, reflecting the sun and sky. It was beautiful, he supposed.

But he couldn't entirely appreciate it.

Dean had held on for three days, but Castiel knew it was over the minute he saw the empty body being rolled into the hospital on a gurney. Maybe he would always have these smatterings of Angelic sense, but he knew, even then, that Dean's body, beautiful and broken, was entirely empty of his soul. Beautiful, but void.

He didn't have the heart to tell Sam. They'd been here so many times, Sam had grown to expect that Dean would bounce back. The poor guy had to believe that to survive.

But Castiel already knew that Dean wouldn't. And watching that strong body try to mend itself and just not be able to in time... mourning in private, while pretending for sixty two sleepless hours to have faith and hope... it was torturous.

He'd felt that today was the day Dean's heart would stop. He couldn't say why he knew, he just did. Today would be the day that Dean Winchester's ninth life would be anticlimactically cut short.

Nothing dramatic would happen, Castiel knew. The earth wouldn't crack in two.

Heaven wouldn't spill out from above.

The nurses and doctors wouldn't go home and cry into their dinner over the tragedy of it.

The News wouldn't talk about him, a hero lost.

There would be a silencing of machines, and a silencing of breath and blood.

And then he would be still.

His muscles would lose their give, and his skin, his lips, would lose their warmth and he would simply cease.

It would be quiet and unimpressive.

Castiel struggled to understand something so simple happening to someone who was so... much.

The breeze at the top of the hospital blew lightly through his clothes, gently billowing his coat, flipping his tie. He wanted to feel like he wasn't alone, but the only person he could think to go to was the reason he was here, so lost, in the first place. He went over in his mind the last time he and Dean had spoken, knowing it was rough and raw and so much didn't get said that needed to.

He wished he'd just said it himself.

He wished Dean had just said it.

He was on the precipice of overwhelming regret when suddenly - he took a metaphorical step back. Or rather, he was pulled.

He felt a warmth on his neck, like the ghost of a breath, raising the hairs there. There was no one with him, but somehow, for a split-second, he didn't feel so alone. He closed his eyes, feeling that warm breath melt down to his spine... a whisper that was felt, but never really heard.

A few moments later, it disappeared. A brief moment of intangible, inexplicable comfort, and then reality crashed back in. And Castiel opened his eyes to find that he somehow felt more alone now than ever. Because now he knew, it was over. Dean was gone.

There was a moment of nothing. Where Cas thought for a second that he himself had ceased as well. Only to find that he was in fact still alive, and was frightfully unhappy about the fact.

But then a thought crept in...

If he were to accept Raphael's offer, rejoin the Angels, return to Heaven, there would be hardly anywhere he couldn't go.

There would be hardly anyone he couldn't find...

Alive,

or dead.

* * *

><p><strong>I've essentially already decided there might have to be a sequel. Maybe it's a cop-out, but I'm a sucker for a happy ending. Let me know if you liked it and a continuation would be something you might want to read. And I shall make it so!<strong>

**As always, thanks so much for reviews. You guys are awesome for sticking with me through the angst and unrepentant fluff.**


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